


Mythical

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Calanthe is confused, Eist is the sweetest, F/M, Fluff, Loving Marriage, Massage, but she still loves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23820676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Calanthe is hurt. Eist takes care of his wife.
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Eist Tuirseach
Kudos: 42





	Mythical

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve noticed lately how similar these two are to Geralt and Jaskier.
> 
> So I wrote something for them involving chamomile.

“I’ve half a mind to toss every member of my war council from the top of the walls. Senseless, the lot of them...” Calanthe huffed with a wince as she untied the back of her nightgown and let the front fall down around her waist. 

Her husband’s lips quirked up in a smile behind her as he rolled up his own sleeves and uncorked the oil that sat next to their bed.

“Every member?” He inquired.

“You heard me.” Calanthe muttered, lying down on her stomach against the mattress beneath them. “You can be just as irritating as the rest of them.”

Eist chuckled, though he wouldn’t disagree. He could stand to watch his mouth more often and try to behave in a more serious, kingly manner.

Still, he knew Calanthe didn’t mean the words that she spoke. The day had made her tense was all, and the pain she was in never helped her mood.

His poor Queen’s right shoulder had been injured in the midst of the latest fight to keep the Southern townships in check, though not by any foe’s blade or arrow.

No, it had been the Lioness herself to cause the hurt, being far too enthusiastic with her own sword and tearing the tissue beneath the skin in the process.

“Unfortunately, my Queen, I cannot heal what I cannot see.” Mousesack had informed her when she’d first complained of the discomfort. “This will simply have to mend with time...however, I can give you something to help with the pain.”

As it turned out, that something was nothing more than a bottle of chamomile, and calling it a temporary fix would be generous.

The soothing effect of the medicine aided her aching for a short while, long enough to get through a few morning appointments, or to catch a few hours of uninterrupted sleep at night, but it was never enough.

That was, of course, until Eist had suggested an addition to her treatment.

“What are you laughing at?” Calanthe growled at her husband, snapping her fingers together harshly when he delayed a bit too long for her liking. “Make with the rubbing!”

Eist bit his lip, halting his laughter, and poured a bit of the oil into his hands. “Whatever my queen commands of me.” He obeyed, leaning over so that he could reach Calanthe’s back and shoulders.

The Queen tensed at first when she felt strong hands against her bare skin, the power behind them...

However, once she cast away the troublesome memories of her first husband, Calanthe began to relax slowly.

“Alright, my love?” Eist asked her gently.

“Fine.” She hummed in response. “Do go on.”

“Of course, your majesty.” 

The Sea Hound was skilled with those powerful hands of his, and soon enough Calanthe’s ache was easing under his touch.

“Tell me if anything hurts.” He told her, pressing his thumbs a bit harder against her tender flesh, rubbing the oil into it more thoroughly than she could ever hope to do on her own.

The chamomile was wonderfully cool, tingling as its frigid heat melted into her muscles and drew out the pain within.

The Lioness let out a soft, satisfied noise.

“I take it you’re enjoying yourself then?” Eist chuckled again.

“Mmhm,” The Queen hummed, letting her eyes fall shut while her husband tended to her wounds. “Don’t stop.” She urged him on before a blissful slumber crept over her.

When Calanthe woke, the first lights of the dawn were painting the sky, night still clinging desperately to their purple tails.

Eist was still sleeping beside her, snoring away without a care in the world as his wife began to stir.

The Queen yawned and reached to tie up the front of her gown, only to realize that it had already been fixed.

Of course it had.

Her eyes returned to Eist, unconscious and rattling on like a great bear as he slept.

She allowed herself a small, affectionate smile, noting as well that he’d taken care to move her onto her good side after she’d drifted off the night before, and also that he’d arranged her pillows to ensure she would not wake to another ache in her injured appendage.

It was such an odd thing to Calanthe, to see such devotion and love in a man.

They weren’t supposed to be this way.

Roegner had not been. Neither had her own father, or her grandfather before him.

“You do baffle me, you sweet buffoon.” The Lioness sighed at her husband as she rose to dress for the day.

The King slumbered on, still dreaming even as Calanthe prepared to leave for an early appointment with the captain of the guard. 

She bent and pressed a soft kiss to Eist’s temple on her way out, gently running her fingers through his hair as she stepped away.


End file.
